Seven Days and Counting Down
by viva los angeles
Summary: Oliver's never been an impulsive guy, but when the current situation forces a snap decision upon him, he keeps a journal to chronicle the last seven days of life as he knows it. MxO.
1. Day Seven

**A/N: I promise you, I will finish Chrysalis. Unfortunately, I've found that I can't write it very well when I haven't seen the show in two months, so I'll resume production of that fanfic when the new season premieres. Ah, did anyone watch _Read It and Weep_? Wasn't Allison fantastic?**

**Aside from that, this new fanfic is definitely a Miley/Oliver HM fic. Everyone I talk to in RL supports Lilly/Oliver but I just don't believe in that ship. Eh, we'll see. But this one's definitely MxO. I promise. I even have a set length—seven chapters, one for every day in the story.**

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_Seven Days and Counting (Down)_

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**Day Seven**

_1:14 PM_

I was opening a kid's locker when my world flipped upside down.

Okay, scratch that. That's not true.

I was opening a kid's locker when my world collided with the Sun and exploded.

Yup, that sounds about right.

Because of this explosion, I am officially starting a journal to chronicle the last seven days of my existence.

You, the possible future reader if my journal somehow flies out into space away from this dreadful catastrophe, will be happy to know some basic information about me. My name is Oliver Oken, affectionately (and maybe not-so) called "Smokin' Oken" by my friends. I am fifteen and rounding out my last week of freshman year. Today, by the way, is May 21st, 2007. I have two exams per day starting tomorrow, which gives me today until seven o'clock to plan out my strategy for survival on this fireball of a situation, at which point I must begin studying for the terrible tests. Only three days of tests, then three days of pre-Apocalypse partying for me and my two best friends, Lilly Truscott and Miley Stewart. You probably know (or maybe not, considering you're in the future somewhere) Miley better as Hannah Montana, pop-star, girl-empowering, song-belting teenage music sensation. And this is where my life starts blowing up.

Don't get me wrong. Miley and Lilly are both amazing friends, and Miley's also a great singer. But her Hannah-ness is what kind of inspired the Sun to hit my small world.

You're probably super confused right now, so I'll start from the beginning.

As I was saying, I was opening a kid's locker when this whole thing started. See, around our school, I have a well-earned reputation of being able to open even the most stubborn lockers. This skill surfaced in seventh grade, and even on the lockers of my new school, Greg J. Harper High, it is almost like a superpower. I don't charge, because that would just be immoral. This morning I was working on a particularly stubborn locker with an equally stubborn resident, locker 204, resident Barry Dane. He's a regular customer; I think he's just too stupid to remember his combination. Anyway, this was right before lunch period, and I had just gotten his locker open when Miley came up to me.

Smokin' Oken: Hey, Miles.

Miley: Hey, Oliver.

SO: What's up?

M: I don't know how to say this, so I'm going to come straight out and just… say it.

At this point, I give her a concerned look and put a hand on her shoulder, wondering if her brother's sick or if her contract's been terminated.

SO: What's going on, Miley?

M: Um, I'm going on tour. Starting the, um, 27th.

SO: That's great! (relieved sigh, I notice she still looks sad) So what's the big deal?

M: Um, it's all over the world.

SO: Still better!

M: For the whole summer.

SO: (trying to hold a smile) Um, great!

M: Really? (relieved sigh) I was so afraid you'd be mad or disappointed.

SO: W-why? You love to sing and that's great.

M: Okay, thanks, see you at lunch.

Sounds innocent enough, right? See, I have this thing with Miley.

Or _for_ Miley.

Yes, you read that right. I, Oliver Oken, locker-opener extraordinaire but general loser, have a massive crush on Miley Stewart, a.k.a. Hannah Montana, pop star/teenage phenomenon.

Except I don't think "crush" is the right word to explain my feelings. I mean, I've known her forever, and "crush" is more of a word used when you don't really know the person all that well. I wouldn't say "love" either, because I don't really believe in teenage love.

But then again, maybe I do.

Because what I feel for her is totally… loveish. _Warning_: mushiness.

Because, I mean, the word "crush" to me has always had stalkerly connotations, and it's more like pining away for somebody that you know you probably can't have, and it's wanting to have them—in an ownership way. I don't pine away for Miley, it's more of a happy-I'm-your-friend-but-I-secretly-wish-that-we-could-be-more-than kind of thing. And she's definitely not an item—not something to own. But, I don't know. I just wouldn't call it a crush. I probably wouldn't know _what_ to call it even if the right words popped out of a birthday cake.

But right now, I have more important things to think about.

I scarfed lunch down (not easy, considering my stomach was not all that willing to accept the mystery glop into its territory) and went to the library. I've never been one for studying, which is good, because it means if someone's looking for me, they'll never look in the library. And then I realized I needed a notebook, so I ran down to the bookstore and purchased this—a nondescript navy notebook that will fit in very well with the empty ones I have in my locker. I only take notes on the really important things.

And this is very important.

Unfortunately, lunch period's over, and now I have to go to Algebra. Fortunately, it's the last day, so we're not doing anything.

_1:20 PM_

I was right. We're allowed to do whatever, so I asked if I could come back to the library. She asked for what, and I said for personal work. She bought it. Thank God.

Now I'm here again, in the cold library, scribbling furiously away in this notebook with my Algebra textbook open in front of me so it looks like I'm studying, not writing down my innermost thoughts in a journal.

It's kind of funny that I'm worried about this, considering I had a very public obsession with Miley's alter ego, Hannah Montana, until I found out who she really is. Then my obsession became less stalkerish and more private.

And now the nowordsforityet-of-my-life is leaving me in six days for all over the world, and I just know she'll find a cute guy or something, or change, or become popular, or not want to be my friend anymore. And I just know I have to do something about it.

But what?

I suppose I could tell her. I mean, the worst that could happen is that she says she doesn't like me back, flies away on a jet plane, hops around the world, comes back, and thinks I'm a complete utter freak.

Not a good route. What else?

I could ask her on a date. That would be more low-pressure. The worst she could do then is just say no. And I suppose that wouldn't be that bad.

Except I'd still nowordsforityet her.

I could just give her this journal when she leaves and tell her to read it on her travels.

But then there'd be so much suspense in waiting, even if she did call me to tell me she whatevered me back.

Or, you know, I could kiss her.

Hmm, only downside is…

_Warning:_ large secret.

…that despite pretending to be Smokin' Oken, I've never kissed a girl. Yes, you read that properly. I have never had a serious enough girlfriend to kiss. I went out with Becca a couple of times in eighth grade, but she just wasn't Miley. So I wouldn't know what to do.

The whole reason I have to do this is because I was planning to do something about it this summer anyway, like ask her out or whatever, and we'd actually have time for a relationship. I also know that eventually she _will_ get a boyfriend, and it won't be me unless I step forward. I just feel like I have to do something.

The period's almost over and, well, I have no clue _what_ I'm going to do.

_6:42 PM_

I talked to Lilly on IM this evening. I can't believe it. She knows. Here, I'll print it out and tape it in here.

**Smoken6**: hey Lilly

**Sk8rgrrl**: hey, did miley tell u a/b the tour?

**Smoken6**: yeah, why?

**Sk8rgrrl**: well, i knew you were gonna ask her out this summ 

**Smoken6**: I don't know what you're talking about.

**Sk8rgrrl**: oh come on, anthony told me about ur conversations with urself about her

**Smoken6**: I'm going to _kill_ that kid!

**Sk8rgrrl**: while ur at it, give him a blow to the temple for me, cuz i loaned him my wheel-replacing kit and he hasn't given it back yet

**Smoken6**: will do :) 

**Sk8rgrrl**: so, what r u gonna do?

**Smoken6**: I don't know.

**Sk8rgrrl**: u could tell her

**Smoken6**: somehow, I think that would be a very bad idea.

**Sk8rgrrl**: y? what if she likes you back and you never do anything about it?

**Smoken6**: why? has she said something?

**Sk8rgrrl**: um…

**Smoken6**: UM WHAT? you can't just say 'um' and not finish the sentence!

**Sk8rgrrl**: it's im, i can type however i want! besides, dinner's ready

**Smoken6**: it's not a matter of grammar, it's a matter of cliffhanging!

**Message could not be sent; user _Sk8rgrrl_ is offline.**

Damn. D-a-m-n.

And I really _am_ going to kill Anthony. That four-years-younger brat has crossed the line.

Tonight at dinner I told Mom and Anne about it, omitting the fact that Miley is Hannah Montana, of course.

Oh, minor explanation needed. Anne is my mother's sister, and Anthony is her son. When my uncle went into the military, they moved in with us, because Anne didn't want to raise a son alone. My parents divorced when I was six, so now it's just me, Mom, Anthony, Anne, and my ferret, Lettuce.

What can I say—I was a kid on a salad kick at the time.

Anyway, I don't have much time left, so I'm gonna head downstairs and bring my study materials up. Yuck.


	2. Day Six

**A/N: Thanks for the great response, all! I really appreciate it. This fandom is obviously very active. And here's a no-shame plug of Ryan Cabrera, because I think "True" is just the greatest song ever. Plus "I Will Remember You" is also fab.**

**Typing Lilly's IMs is near impossible for me, because I IM just like Oliver does in this story.**

**I'm sorry this chapter took so long, I had to pick up textbooks, and I'm in the process of restoring an '86 Schwinn Sprint, so I have to do research for that.**

**ChristyLoisGilmore14: funny, I'd never even thought about Lilly/Jackson until I read some fics, but yeah, it _is_ a great ship!**

**lil Cwick: thanks! I'm a girl and I have no idea how guys' minds work (does anyone?), so I'm doing my best, and I'm glad it's good!**

**AsWeFly: YAY! I feel so accomplished. Thanks!**

**sandylover: yeah, I always thought Oliver had a crush on Miley, and I think he acts more like the crusher in the show, like when he goes to her concert and starts singing when she can't remember the words. Thanks for reading!**

**Luvs-Mitchel-Musso: of course :-D**

**BethanyKatherine: thanks, this is definitely the most popular story out of the others I've written (okay, maybe not, but I'd like to think that's just because it's not over yet)**

**StepInTime: wow, thanks a ton!**

**Ikari Dare: I like desperate, you are the people who force me to keep writing!**

**Me: I'm glad you heart it :)**

**falloutboyLOVER28327: so do I lol :-P**

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**Day Six**

_4:21 AM_

I can't sleep.

I keep thinking about her. Miley, I mean. I have an exam in four hours and I keep thinking about her.

I have my iPod headphones stuffed in my ears. I'm playing the CD Miley gave me for my birthday two weeks ago; it has all of her favorite songs on it, and right now Ryan Cabrera's crooning "True" in my wide-awake ear. And not one of the songs is a Hannah song; now that's just such a Miley thing. Never tooting her own horn—I'm not even sure she _has_ a horn.

I've got my Spanish book open on my lap but I'm not even pretending to study. Tomato, _tomate_, whatever. I've gotten Bs all semester, which is more than I can say for anyone else in my class. My teacher suggested moving up and taking Spanish III my sophomore year but I don't want the extra pressure of class with juniors. I've never gotten on well with the older kids, except the ones who can't open their lockers. They kind of regard me as their personal savior.

I keep wondering why, when I found out that she was Hannah Montana, and she asked me if I liked her or just Hannah, I didn't say yes. It would've decomplicated things so much. But I distinctly remember her saying "good" when I said no, so maybe not. Or she was just lying.

But I really _do not_ want to get my hopes up, and talking to Lilly didn't help any. I keep thinking about her "um." I didn't know that two letters could be so important.

Except for N and O, which together form the word that's causing me so much teenagey angst. _Not_ the word "on." The word "no." The one word that I am most afraid of when it comes to revealing my feelings to Miley.

If I ever get that far.

I haven't figured anything else out since the conversation with Lilly, except that I'm harboring this gnawing dread of the 27th.

What else is new?

_12:02 PM_

Well, despite my current unfocused situation, I think I did fantastically on the exams. No more Spanish _or_ History for two and a half months!

I've got my iPod on again, and this time Jesse McCartney is asking me why I'm not kissing her. It's almost like the whole world knows.

Except Miley.

Lilly texted me at 11:47. She finished her French exam early, it seems, and wants to meet me at The Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf. Yum.

But what does she want?

_12:14 PM_

I parked my bike and got here. Lilly's watching me chicken-scratching into this notebook. I tell her that I'm recording all of the events leading up to the end of the Earth, and she just looks at me like I'm insane. I'll record our conversation for future reference.

Lilly: So, Oliver.

Oliver: So, Lilly. (I take a sip of my Black Forest)

L: I think we both know why we're here.

O: Not a clue.

L: (rolls eyes) As if.

O: Fine. I assume to talk about Miley?

L: Yup.

O: What about her?

L: Face it. You love her.

O: (with gusto) The word, nay, the very _concept_ of "love" does not exist in Teenagerdom.

L: Oh really?

O: Yes! Look at Rex and Belinda. They went out for three months until he said he loved her, and they broke up.

L: One couple, Oliver. One.

O: One too many, Lilly.

L: What's _in_ that notebook, exactly?

O: (I look down) Uh, just thoughts, and stuff.

L: (looks down, pensively stirs chai latte) Can I… read it?

O: Sure, whatever (hands over notebook, Lilly reads, gives back).

L: That proves it. You definitely love her.

O: (with less gusto than before) I do not.

L: You do.

O: Fine, whatever.

L: Yay! So, when're you gonna kiss her?

O: What!

L: You heard me. (slowly, with embarrassing gestures) When are you going to kiss her?

O: I'm… not.

L: Why the hell not?

O: Because what if she doesn't, you know, _love_ me back?

L: Well, so she leaves for tour for three months and constantly remembers you kissing her as a bad memory that will forever stain your friendship. Ooh, bad idea then.

O: Uh, yeah.

L: What are we going to do?

O: _Me_, Lilly. You're _not_ part of this.

L: _Excuzay-mwah_ (I don't know how to spell it)? I am both of you guys' best friend.

O: I just… I don't want you making it worse.

L: (raises right hand) I swear, it pains me not to see you two together, but I promise, I will _not_ make things worse.

O: (sigh) Okay, fine. Meddle away.

L: Yay!

Oh my God, Miley just walked in.

_12:57 PM_

Miley walked in and just sat herself down at the table. Lilly and I tried to act nonchalant, but let's face it, we suck. And I don't mean that we sucked our drinks super-fast up our straws and hauled butt out of there, although that _did_ happen. I mean we suck at pretending that the only reason that we were even in there was to celebrate the end of historical/foreign-language torture.

Miley looked even more… Milish than usual.

**Miley** (MY-lee). _n_. 1. Personal quality of self-confidence, slight humbleness, and beauty of character. 2. A super nice, pretty girl who happens to be my best friend and the only road that my one-track mind has on its Magellan. _ex_. That girl has such Miley _Oth. forms_. Milish, adj.; Milify, v.; Milishly, adv.

And I felt horrible just to get up and leave. But I couldn't help it, plus Lilly and I decided to talk on IM once we got home.

Which we did. IM conversation printing right now.

**Sk8rgrrl**: i cant believe she just showed up like that

**Smoken6**: I know. I wasn't expecting that at all.

**Sk8rgrrl**: we never figured out what ur gonna do

**Smoken6**: nothing. I am going to do nothing.

**Sk8rgrrl**: u cant do nothing, u have to do sumthing!

**Smoken6**: I'm more of a passive person.

**Sk8rgrrl**: plz. ur 1 of the least passive people i no

**Smoken6**: fine, you got me. but be that as it may, I am not going to make a move on Miley.

**Sk8rgrrl**: whtevr, ur choice

**Sk8rgrrl**: though i do think u should do sumthing

**Smoken6**: why do you keep saying that? did Miley say something?

**Sk8rgrrl**: we should talk a/b wat ur gonna do

**Smoken6**: fine, whatever

**Sk8rgrrl**: mall at 8? meet in Niemans, u no miley won't set foot in there

**Smoken6**: fine, mall at 8.

**Sk8rgrrl**: c u then

**Smoken6**: bye

**Message could not be sent; user _Sk8rgrrl_ is offline.**

Considering that I've got both my Biology exam and my Algebra exam tomorrow, I have to get on the ball to study before I go meet Lilly.

_9:45 PM_

Lilly and I successfully met up in Niemans, and Miley didn't show up, thank goodness. We had a conversation that went, well, pretty much like our other conversations on this oh-so-delicate topic have. I decided to invest at a voice recorder at the Sony store, so I recorded our conversation and then transcribed it on the computer to prevent hand cramp, which I end up getting anyway just from my writings during the day. But whatever. Writing out conversations is just really hard, okay? And this way I can add inflections and commentary, when I don't have time for that in my normal stenography.

"So, why are we here again?" I ask, standing in the clearance dresses section.

"To discuss Miley, same reason we met up the other time," Lilly says, rolling her eyes.

I shake my head. "No, I mean in the clearance dress section. If Miley comes here for some reason, won't she probably come into this very section?"

"I'm looking around," Lilly says in a wounded voice, "and besides, I told you, she'll never set foot in here."

I shrug. "Okay, if you say so."

"So, we have to figure out what you're going to do," Lilly says, holding a poofy green dress up to herself and looking down at it.

"We already discussed it!" I yell, and then lower my voice. "I told you, _nothing_. And why is it that every time I ask you if Miley said something, you ignore it?"

"Do you think this color looks good on me?" she asks, obviously ignoring my question.

Finally accepting that there is no way in h-e-double-toothpicks that she's going to answer that question, I shake my head. "Color, yes. Style, no." She gives me a Look. "My aunt critiques my mom's clothes all the time."

Offended, she puts the dress back on the rack and looks at me. "Look, I just think it would be, I dunno, _best_ if you and Miley got together now."

"So do I," I sit down on the carpeted floor and look up at Lilly for the first time ever. "But I really don't want to risk ruining…"

"…What you already have," she finishes my sentence. "They use that line in every sitcom. Get over yourself. What would you do if I told you she liked you back?"

My heart starts beating and I flush red. "She… she does?"

"I'm not saying that, I'm just asking what you'd do if I did," Lilly says in a tone that was invented to be used almost exclusively with the word _duh_ and sentences that imply it.

"Probably ask her out," I say truthfully. "Tomorrow."

Lilly picks a red gown from the rack and looks down at me while inspecting the dress. "So pretend I _did_ tell you that. And act on it."

"I can't do that!" I say indignantly. "You were saying that you didn't say it!"

"But if you pretend that I _did_ say what you're saying that I said that I didn't say, then maybe you can say what you know you need to say," she says in one breath.

"Huh?"

Lilly rolls her eyes again. "Do it anyway."

"No. But that dress looks nice."

She looks at the price tag. "Nope, it's ugly."

And there ends our significant conversation. After that I just got out of there as quickly as possible.

I've noticed a trend in our conversations. She tells me to ask Miley out, I say no, she tries to convince me to, and I say no. This has to move.

I don't know. Should I ask her out? Or should I just… not?

We'll see. She and Lilly and I are meeting up at the beach tomorrow.


	3. Day Five

**A/N: I've been wandering all around the house today doing tour jetes and high kicks and singing "Sugar We're Going Down" or whatever that FOB song's called. Then I decided to focus my energy on this. Plus I got nauseated from all that wandering so I had to grab my laptop and sit in my nice cushy chair.**

**For some reason, I feel like changing the rating to T, so don't be weirded out by it, because nothing really bad's going to happen. Oliver's thoughts might just get a little less guarded, and his actions may follow suit. A ver.**

**pinknpreppy23: thanks! I love defining things and do it almost constantly in real life, and I judge clothing first on price, then on appearance. I do agree that there ought to be more Miley, which there will be, but seeing as this is kind of a behind-the-scenes thing it will mostly be conversations between Lilly and Oliver, and their escapades in which they attempt to avoid Miley.**

**StepInTime: thanks, and after reading your story, I know that you do as well! I always have a problem with journal stories because no human being can remember dialogue for even an hour and then write it down in immense detail, so I try to make it as realistic as possible. And I think Oliver's definitely the type to pick up a voice recorder just so he can remember things perfectly. And I'm like him too, in the same ways you are.**

**falloutboyLOVER27328: thanks! You said "I can't wait to read more" or something of the sort in your review, and I was merely saying that neither could I, seeing as I write the chapters as they come and not beforehand.**

**falloutboylover28327: I shall :-D**

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**Day Five**

_7:35 AM_

I got a good night's rest last night.

Unfortunately, for me, that is usually synonymous with "I'm gonna be late for school this morning." We'll see. I have twenty-five minutes to get to my Biology exam. I can do this. I can do this.

But I can't get ready and write in this journal at the same time. So, _hasta_ after the exams.

_11:51 AM_

I'm sitting out here alone waiting for Lilly and Miley to finish their Algebra exams so we can head to the beach.

_11:59 AM_

Still waiting.

_12:14 PM_

And still waiting.

_10:28 PM_

Well, _that_ was an eventful afternoon.

After our exams were over, Lilly, Miley and I took our various modes of transportation down to the beach. For some reason, neither of them have bikes, so Lilly brought her skateboard, Miley brought her red moped, and I brought my rollerblades. I don't know why we didn't just walk, but there you go.

Once we got to the locker rooms, we all changed (in our own genders' locker rooms, thankyouverymuch) and headed down to that little snack stand Jackson works at. Fortunately, he wasn't there. That's fortunate partially because I didn't really want to have to deal with his older-sibling behavior towards Miley and myself, and I'm sick of Lilly's incessant flirting with him. I'm a guy, so when I can tell that a girl's flirting, that's _bad_. Because I'm usually clueless about that stuff.

Anyhow, from the guy working at the stand, I got a hot dog. Lilly and Miley declined food, even when I offered to pay. I never do that. But I got a Sunkist for Miley (and pretended it was for me), because it's her favorite and I knew she'd get thirsty later on. Putting it into my backpack-which-doubles-as-a-beach-bag, we all de-vehicled (I put my blades in my bag too, somehow) and hiked across the warm sand to the beach.

Unfortunately, I couldn't whip the voice recorder out and record our whole three-hour funfest, so this whole thing is written from my mind-overheating attempts to remember everything that happened in full detail. This journal is a bad influence, not to mention an enemy of all my brain cells. But believe me, I couldn't forget this stuff if I tried.

The first thing that Lilly did was lay out her towel, sit on it, and proceed to put sunscreen on. The first thing that Miley did was lay her towel next to Lilly's, sit on it, and proceed to put sunscreen on. The first thing I did was lay down my towel next to Miley's, take my sunscreen out of my bag, for some reason, take my shirt off, and only _then_ proceed to put sunscreen on.

The second thing that Lilly did was rummage around in her backpack for water shoes. The second thing that Miley did was stare at me in an incredibly embarrassing-yet-flattering manner. The second (and possibly stupidest) thing that I did was ask Miley, "Are you staring at me?"

"N-no," she said quickly, and I could tell that it wasn't the beginnings of sunburn that were making her face pink. She turned to Lilly and said, "Please, Lilly, put some sunscreen on my back."

And for a nanosecond, I seriously considered saying, "Let me do it."

And then I felt like a major sicko perv, so I just attempted finished up my own sunscreen, at a loss as to who would put sunscreen on _my_ back.

Interloper as usual, Lilly noticed the difficulty with which I was having as I was attempting to smear the feminine-smelling goop on my back by myself, so looking at Miley, she said, "Why don't you help Oliver out? I've got to get a sandwich."

"Um, okay," Miley said, and I could tell that it took her effort to steady her voice. As she turned away from Lilly, during the second she wasn't facing either of us but the ground I shot Lilly a particularly venomous Look. She shrugged and disappeared.

Both of us sat in an awkward silence so heavy that had there been a barometer between us, it would have shown clear skies despite the clouds overhead and the rain that the radar that morning had promised. Going to the beach in the rain had never been a problem for us, because we didn't so much swim as we did hang out and talk. However, I was sure that we'd be spending more time than usual in the water, given how uncomfortable Miley's and my relationship had become over such a short period of time.

I squealed as something really cold hit my back, and I heard Miley laugh quietly. "It's just sunscreen," she said softly as she put her hand into the chilly goop and smoothed it around.

But she was wrong. It wasn't just sunscreen. The second her hand touched my shoulder I got chills, and believe me, the sunscreen was warm with body heat by this time. Again, I sound like a major sicko perv. After I'm sure my back was covered with enough sunscreen to protect it if I were standing within five hundred feet of the star, she turned and looked at me with this extremely gorgeous smile. "Lilly up and left before she did my back. I guess it's your turn."

We both turned around so that I was facing her back. Handing me the sunscreen tube, she shot me another brilliant smile. I squeezed the Banana Boat into my hand and started… where? Miley was wearing an aqua-and-maroon striped bikini, and I realized that this was a very precarious position that the two of us were in. Gently and trying not to startle her or make her uncomfortable, I dipped my fingers in the white goo and smeared it on her right shoulder, down to the straps of the top of her swimsuit. I ignored the fabric for the time being and went to her other shoulder, and then between the shoulder straps in the middle below her neck. The rest of the sunscreen I put in the small of her back, rubbing it slowly into the skin so she didn't look like the old ladies with the white noses.

"There," I said, admiring my work. Miley's head swiveled around, and she brought a hand up behind her back and rubbed underneath the straps of her suit.

"Excellent," she smiled.

We both scooted slightly around so that we were next to each other, our sun-warmed shoulders touching. "English tomorrow," I remarked randomly, watching yachts float on the horizon between Earth and vast sky.

I felt her hair fall around my arm and her head touch my shoulder. _Miley's leaning her head on my shoulder_, I thought, elated, and put an arm around her. It was all so romantic there for five minutes, the two of us leaning on each other, that is, until…

"Hey, who wants pastrami?"

Miley and I sprang apart like a flabbergasted mousetrap. "Uh…"

"We were just…"

Lilly held up her non-sandwich-occupied hand in surrender. "I know, I know, blah blah blah. If I didn't trust the two of you, I wouldn't have left you here alone." She smiled a knowing smile, and I realized that it's easy to hate and appreciate someone at the same time.

With a (hopefully) brilliant smile at Miley, I suddenly got up, ran through the surf, and did a shallow lifeguard dive into the Malibu water. The beach here is short, about ten feet from rocky cliffs to shore, and the water gets deep fast. I heard her playfully indignant scream, and I heard her splashing gracelessly through the shallows. Stopping on the sandbar, I encouraged her. "Come on, Miles," I cried.

"I can't reach," she wailed, doing a pathetic doggy paddle through the deeper parts. Swimming forward to her side, I took her hand and pulled her alongside me as we semi-doggy paddled in synch. Finally our feet touched down and she bobbed next to me. "We left Lilly on the shore all by herself."

"She and Mr. Pastrami will be very happy together," I said with a chuckle.

We splashed each other, swam around, et cetera. I put seaweed on her head, and she put a hermit crab on my shoulder. We each had our share of screams and laughs, and after about an hour out in the water, we decided to race each other back to shore.

Miley won. We collapsed, exhausted, on our respective towels, but not without a quick glance to make sure Lilly was in her standard spot flirting with Jackson, whose shift had probably started about twenty minutes earlier. She was, and I picked up the warm, flat Sunkist. "Soda?"

With one of those sleepy smiles that slowly, warmly creeps over the face, Miley smiled at me and accepted the drink, taking a few gulps and putting it back down. She curled up, facing away from me, and within moments, she was asleep. I rolled onto my side to face her back, putting a hand under my cheek and my elbow on my towel. Her chest rose slowly but surely, ensuring a steady oxygen supply to keep her on our Earth. She didn't move, looked dead, but her breathing was a promise I had to believe.

I guess I rolled over to sleep too, because when I woke up, my arm was around her waist and she was still sleeping. I held in a small shriek and moved jerkily away from her. "What have I done?" I asked myself in horror, getting up and pulling my towel over my shoulder. I thought better of it and put it over Miley so she wouldn't get badly burned. I slung my backpack on and practically ran to the snack stand, where Lilly and Jackson were laughing over milkshakes.

"Where're you going, Oliver?" Lilly asked, surprised.

"I just… have to go home," I said, flushed. "I ruined it all."

And I strapped my blades on and left.

Here I am now, sitting on my bed as I have been since I returned from the beach. Lilly's called me, Miley's called me, Jackson's even called me. I yelled at Anthony when he came to bring me dinner, I yelled at Anne, I yelled at Mom, and I spent the rest of the evening mulling over my actions. I slept with her—no, not like that, you foul-minded creep. I mean I slept in her vicinity, in an intimate, but not sexual, way. And I ruined it all. She knows now that I… I love her. What am I going to do?


	4. Day Four

**A/N: This story's waaaaaaaay fun to write. I had this bizarre dream last night that Mitchel Musso had purple eyes and I was part of the Hannah Montana cast. See what writing does to my brain!**

**And, in a moment of randomness, I used Adam Savage's term "Super Sugar Hyper Pop" to name Anthony's cereal. I love Mythbusters.**

**I'm streaming Radio Disney right now, I'm so excited because here the AM station is really high and it's really bad quality, but I'll be really excited once I can request "If We Were a Movie." I requested "Chemicals React" an hour ago and they're playing it! I've never had a radio station play my requests!**

**iheartdisney128: thanks! Here's more!**

**Luvs-Mitchel-Musso: thanks, I'm glad. Here's an update.**

**LiS-iM a MoLiVeR fAn: haha, thanks, all my friends tell me that I'm a drama goddess. And thanks; I wrote a short story last year for the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards, and I won at the school level but not at regionals. That was disappointing, so it's always nice to hear that I'm good.**

**StepInTime: yeah, he's pretty confused, and he probably will be throughout the rest of the story. He is sweet, and seriously, that whole sunscreen thing—while I was writing it I was like so excited wondering what was coming next, probably similar to how you guys feel when you read it (if you care at all). And thanks for _reading_ an excellent chapter!**

**BriannaG: thanks :)**

**aRiEgUrL49: thanks. It might just be me, but I know that if all of this happened to me (which some of it has), I'd definitely be convinced that the guy liked me. And remember, Oliver's paranoid about anything having to do with Miley.**

**smi1e: thanks! Read previous review reply.**

--

**Day Four**

_2:36 AM_

I was sitting on my bed again. This girl is the bane of my sleep patterns.

My English books were spread out around me. _Romeo & Juliet, Lord of the Flies, A Streetcar Named Desire, Wordbook 6, The Importance of Being Earnest_… the titles swirled together and I got up, nauseated.

I walked into the bathroom and splashed some water on my face. My acne's flaring up again. I made a mental note to call the doctor and get my prescription for Tetracycline renewed as I walked out of the bathroom and into the hall. The playroom loomed before me, and I went and sat down where I am _now_, on a chaise lounge that my mom's had since forever.

I remember playing ping-pong with my dad on the table that's now folded, stored behind the monster TV stand, away from eyes and gathering dust. Then I remember playing pinball by myself, and screaming at Anne (with Anthony on her hip), Mom, Miley, Lilly, whoever came in, to get the hell away from me. In addition to being shocked to hear such a word existing in my vocabulary at such a young age, they were all offended.

None as badly as Miley, though.

I remember her looking at me, her smiling face falling painfully into a look of loneliness. She'd come alone; her father had dropped her off and wasn't coming back for another hour. The plate of cookies in her hand fell to her side, clattering as plastic does, as her head sank into her hands. I remember feeling guilty, especially as I saw her shoulders start shaking and heard her crying. I knew that feeling all too well, as I had been crying a lot myself in the past few months. I remember wanting to leave the high score I was trying for and walk over to her in six-year-old compassion and hug her, tell her I was sorry and make it all better.

But at the same time, I knew I couldn't, because I'd already hurt her spirit. Those feelings of compassion were the love I felt for her at the time, though they were nothing near the love I feel now for her, because I was only six and didn't know what the word meant. But when I saw her turn to leave, I could hear her heart ripping, and I _know_ what that feels like.

With a sigh, I get up and went over to Lettuce's cage. "Hey, little girl," I say, scooping her out of her cage with two hands and the better parts of my forearms. "How's it going?"

She looks up at me with beady eyes. "You're my favorite girl, you know that, right?" She butts her head into my chin and I swear I can see a smile on her face.

"Yeah, Oliver, I know it. Despite what a freak you are, I love you dearly," I can imagine her saying. Holding her to my chest, I bury my nose in her graying fur as I have done for years. Lettuce was my handkerchief all of those times that I cried, and now she's definitely still one of my best friends. I love that stinky ferret.

When I turned ten, Lilly, Miley, Mom, and Anne all chipped in to get her for me. She's the best birthday present I ever got. I spent a month reading everything I could about ferrets and ferret-proofing the playroom, so she could run around whenever I took her out. I even shelled out some of my own money to get her a deluxe ferret-hammock that I had fallen in love with at Petsmart.

Lettuce was my first love, and I still love her to death. But she's only got a couple more years to live, seeing as she's five, and most ferrets live from seven to nine years. Anthony loves her too, and we frequently take her out and play with her. She loves to snuggle, too, as she is right now. Although the sun's not up yet, she's tired, and it's probably because I've got a full-spectrum lamp on. Poor girl. I'm throwing off her sleep patterns, just like Miley is mine.

And unfortunately, I can't get out of my head how it felt when she was putting sunscreen on my back. It's almost frightening how romantic an event like that can be, even if you never realize it until later.

Waking up next to her, though, was scary. At first, I thought we'd, you know, which I _never_ would, at least, not before marriage. Then I realized that we were on the beach and someone most certainly would have stopped us, and then I also realized that I'd probably remember that. But it still shook me up.

I hear my phone buzzing across the hall, and I get up and run to get it, leaving snoozing Lettuce in a heap on the chair.

Miley texted me.

_Oliver, r u there? Im worried a/b u_

Of course I'm here. Where else would I be?

_Yeah, what's up?_

I push "send" and wonder how long it'll take her to text me back as I return to the playroom, close the door, and put Lettuce back on my lap.

_10:10 AM_

I woke up this morning with a ferret in my lap and several frantic text messages from Miley on my phone, all to the tune of _Did you die?_

I didn't die. I just fell asleep.

I took a quick shower and pulled on some clothes, then went downstairs to get breakfast.

"Hey, little dude," I said to Anthony as I poured myself a bowl of Apple Jacks and drowned them in milk. I also asked, "Can I record this conversation?"

"Why…?"

"So I can keep my journal up to date. Go."

"Hey, Oliver," he said with a smile. "How's things?"

"You told Lilly," I said with a mouthful of Apple Jacks.

He shrugged. "Someone had to."

I swallowed. "She wants her wheel replacement kit back."

"I'll put it in the doorway," he said, stuffing his mouth full of Super Sugar Hyper Pop. "You can give it to her when you get to school."

I smiled. "Hey, since you're out of school, would you mind playing with Lettuce for me? She looked a little lonely last time I took her out."

"Sure, no problem," he nodded. "I love her like you do."

"Thanks, cuz," I said, and finished my cereal.

"And please, do me a favor," Anthony said.

"What?"

"Kiss Miley," he pleaded. "You like her a lot and I think she likes you…"

"You haven't _met_ her," I reminded him.

"But Lilly thinks she does."

"What?" I exclaimed.

Anthony nodded with a mouthful of SSHP. "That's what she said."

I practically inhaled my cereal and took off, stopping the recording on this voice recorder. "Mom, let's go," I cried up the stairs.

Anne came instead. "Your mom's in the shower. I'll take you to school, Ollie."

Anthony disappeared up the stairs and reappeared with what I assumed was the wheel replacement kit. "Thanks, cuz," I said as Anne and I closed the door behind us.

Anne and I didn't say much of anything on the slow drive to school, except the usual in-car driving instruction. I love having my permit but I really don't like having to drive with someone constantly instructing me. But I suppose it's better than totaling the car.

We arrived, I thanked Anne for bringing me, I did some quick studying, and then I took the English exam without major incident. And Lilly and Miley just arrived, so I'll write again after we do whatever it is we're going to do. And I have to give Lilly her kit back.

_6:21 PM_

Well, that too was an eventful afternoon. And my head hurts from remembering it all, although I probably couldn't have forgotten this either had I tried.

In celebration of the end of freshman year and in anticipation of summer (though I wasn't anticipating losing my best friend for two and a half months), Lilly, Miley and I all went to the mall.

First, we went to Macy's. Miley and Lilly have a strange affinity for modeling clothes, and this led to an interesting idea of Lilly's. "Let's dress you two up," she said, stupidly. "Miley, stay here and pick out a dress. Oliver, come with me."

I followed her. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

"Well," Lilly said as we got to the formal men's department, "I think once you see her in something drop-dead gorgeous, you'll… I don't know, I'm playing this by ear."

I snorted. "Okay, whatever."

As she rifled through the tuxedoes, trying to find one in my size, she remarked, "You always say 'Okay, whatever' or 'Fine, whatever' when I say something about Miley. Why?"

"Because it's hard for me to think about. This is complex," I finally said.

"No it's not. You love her. Now all we've got to do is see if she reciprocates your feelings."

"Ooh, big word," I mocked with a grin. "How do you intend to do that?"

"Elementary, my dear Oken," she said. "We'll see how she responds to you in this."

From the rack she pulled a black tuxedo, which I am pressed to describe as _sharp_. "Wow," I said, impressed. "I haven't seen a tux like that since, well, ever."

She pointed at the dressing room and I obediently went to change into the tux. It was a quick process, and I stepped out of the dressing room, my backpack and clothes in my hand. "Smokin' Oken is back!" Lilly squealed. "I'll go find you some shoes. Wait here."

I did as told, and Lilly took off to get me some shoes. I waited and waited and finally she returned with a black pair of dress shoes that fit me perfectly.

"Okay, Prince Charms-a-Lot, let's go find your Cinderelly."

I followed her back to the dress section and she knocked on the dressing room door. "Miley, come on, I know you look great, whatever you're wearing."

The door squeaked open and Aphrodite came out. Wait, no, it was Miley. There was no mistaking that embarrassed grin. She was wearing a glittery purple strapless dress. It had sequins on it and was kind of, I dunno, give me a second to look up the word…

The dress was ruched, you know, kind of folded and scrunchy in lines around her? I started to feel all major sicko perv again as I realized how well she filled the dress out. _Stop it, stupid,_ I reminded myself, _this is Miley_. But wow, did she ever look stunning. And I didn't hesitate to tell her so.

"Miley Stewart, you are possibly the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." I said it in a slightly joking tone to conceal the fact that I really meant it. And Lilly disappeared all of a sudden.

Pop sensation Hannah Montana, also known as Miley Stewart, isn't _allowed_ to be nervous. At least, not on stage. It seems that in real life, she and her alter ego aren't just alter egos, but alter people. Her cheeks flushed a deep red and she looked down.

"Don't be afraid to be beautiful," I said, stepping closer to her. "Be proud."

"You sound like Oprah," she said, looking up at me with a happy smile. "You look pretty smokin' yourself, Oken."

I bowed with a flourish. "Why thank you."

I hadn't noticed that all department stores sort of have elevator music going in the background while people shop, but they do, and the song changed from upbeat pop (a Hannah Montana song, in fact) to "You and Me" by Lifehouse.

"May I have this dance?" I asked her quietly.

She nodded, and I put my hands around her waist, linking my fingers together, as she stepped closer and linked her arms around my neck, her elbows grazing my chest. "This is fun," she smiled bashfully.

"Most definitely," I agreed as we swayed to the music.

The two of us must have been a sight, dancing by the changing room in clothes with the multi-hundred-dollar price tags dangling off them, her barefoot and me in super-shiny unworn leather shoes. Within moments, Miley was leaning her head on my right shoulder with her arms tightly clasped around my neck, and I leaned my head against hers, kissing the top of her hair. We were wound tightly together and as she adjusted her position I adjusted mine, holding her closer to me to compensate for her movements.

I saw Lilly come back and she jumped up and down silently, golf-clapping and whisper-squealing. I knew then that it was her that had gotten someone to change the song, which then ended. Miley and I moved apart slowly, because neither of us was sure of what had just happened. I kissed her hair, I knew that much.

"Hey, guys," Lilly said, pretending to be blasé but really sucking at it. "What's up?"

I realized my arm was still around Miley's shoulders, and until she complained, I was going to leave it there. "I really like that dress, Miles," I said with a grin.

"Daddy said I could get a new dress on the card because of this tour, so… I'll take it!" she exclaimed happily, and hugged me tight. "Thanks."

"For what?" I asked.

"Everything."

I smiled.

But that's not where the fun part ends.

After Miley got her beautiful purple dress we headed out to grab some lunch somewhere. Lilly, who I have noticed has actually noticed boys all of a sudden, went to chat up the coffee guy at Starbucks, and Miley and I went to Panda Express. I love their orange flavored chicken. She chose to get Kung Pao Chicken, and seemed surprised that when we got to the cash register, the cashier asked us if we were together and I said yes, and then paid for both of us.

"Why…?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "I thought it was a nice thing to do."

"It was, I'm just…"

Lilly showed with a sandwich and a Frappucino. "I don't really like Starbucks, but that guy was way cute." We all sat down at a table and ate in silence, for an unknown reason. "So, what's going on between you two?"

Both Miley and I stared at Lilly in horror.

"What could you…" I started.

"I don't…" Miley added.

"Hey, hey, don't worry, I'll keep it on the down low. Don't want to ruin Miley's paparazzi life here."

"To tell you the truth," I took Miley's hand and put it on the table, closing my hand over it and shooting her a sideways glance of 'follow along' as Lilly looked down to pick up her sandwich, "Miley and I are dating, and we've been keeping it a secret from you for three months."

Miley looked at me with a small smirk and sighed. "Yeah, we're sorry, but we didn't want to put you out. We thought it might be awkward."

Lilly smirked back. "Well, if you two are dating, then you won't have a problem accepting a challenge."

"W-what?" I asked, slightly freaked that she had figured it out so soon.

"If you're dating, you'll kiss."

Miley and I looked at each other, eyes wide. "Uh," I started in a shaky voice, "we, we've only been dating for three months. We haven't kissed."

"Because he's too nervous," Miley added.

I could have just said that we weren't dating but for some reason, it seemed like… I don't know.

"I'm waiting," Lilly said, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest.

I looked at Miley and silently apologized. I could tell by the look on her face she was doing the same thing. I swooped in for a quick kiss on the cheek and sat back. "Alright."

"That does _not_ count," Lilly admonished us. "A _real_ kiss."

"Okay, ready, Miley?" I asked, and she nodded. We were both steeling ourselves.

One quick peck and it was over.

"That isn't a real kiss either," Lilly said. "I mean a boyfriend-girlfriend kiss, not a grandmotherly kiss."

I couldn't do this. It felt wrong. "Lilly, the truth is…"

"We can do this," Miley said, double-entendre-ing it at both me and Lilly. "Come on, Oliver, don't be such a sissy."

"Are you sure?" I asked, my heart thumping in my chest.

"Positive."

I felt her hands on my cheeks and suddenly her lips were on mine. I felt her push her chair closer to me, and my hands were hanging stupidly by my sides, so I had to think about where to put them. I decided that the small of her back was perfect. I felt her hands move to my neck and then down to my chest. This was getting more heated by the second.

When we broke apart, we realized Lilly was gone.

"Whoa, I didn't know you had it in you," I gasped for breath as I looked, astonished, at Miley in a very new light.

"You're not so bad a kisser yourself," she chuckled.

"So what does this mean?" I asked her, bewildered.

"Nothing, I mean, we're not really dating, we're just friends, right?"

"No, Miley, you don't get it. I love you, and I want to be able to kiss you like that all the time, not just when we're dared to by Lilly."

I didn't actually say that, though. Instead, I said, "Y-yeah, yeah, just friends." Inside, I was crestfallen. But on the outside, I was Smokin' Oken, as per usual.

"Just friends," she repeated, as if assuring herself of the fact.

Lilly showed up again, and we went to various stores, but everything was awkward between me and Miley. We didn't talk at all, and Lilly didn't seem to realize that it was her fault.

Nothing else happened.

_9:34 PM_

I haven't told anyone about the kiss.

But I did talk to Lilly on IM.

**Smoken6**: look what you've done! she hates me now!

**Sk8rgrrl**: i didnt do nething, u were the 1 who was all over her

**Smoken6**: but you… never mind, all I know now is that I ruined everything. and for your information, she was all over me.

**Sk8rgrrl**: does that tell u nething?

**Smoken6**: not anything except I haven't got a chance anymore, and you ruined it. you, Lilly Truscott, are the source of my pain.

**Sk8rgrrl**: y do u think she hates u?

**Smoken6**: because how could she not after that? I was all over her!

**Sk8rgrrl**: but u just said…

**Smoken6**: I don't know what I'm saying half of the time. My brain's addled.

**Sk8rgrrl**: she was the 1 who kissed u. and u think she hates u? let me spell this out 4 u. SHE LIKES U

**Smoken6**: you know what, Lettuce is lonely.

**Sk8rgrrl**: good for her. look, ur being stupid

**Message could not be sent; user _Smoken6_ is offline.**

I don't know what to do!


	5. Day Three

**A/N: mm, not much to say other than OVER 900 VIEWS IN JUST OVER A WEEK! I LOVE YOU GUYS!**

**Especially those of you who read this from the hannahmontana LJ community! I love you too!**

**I'm sorry for such a quiet, short chapter—I just wanted to give Ollie some time to mull things over. He had to come to a conclusion eventually.**

**smi1e: haha, thanks!**

**Tpfang56: thanks!**

**penguinsrock12: I don't know, maybe so. **

**that amii girl: whoa, thanks! I love me them tenterhooks.**

**mione16: thanks! I read this review aloud to my friend and she was like "whoa, Kylie, you have a fan club!"**

**falloutboylover28327: I don't mind as long as you _do_ review lol**

**StepInTime: thanks, I usually suck at cliffhangers. I wouldn't call it artistic license, I'd call it "Kylie's too lazy to actually _do_ research for her stories so shame on her" but whatever you call it is fine with me! I usually get really mad when people go all anachronism on me but wow, I've done it. Many apologies to all readers, and I'll not do it again.**

**ChristyLoisGilmore14: my sentiments exactly!**

**Phantom: I know how to spell it, Oliver doesn't. At least, I assume not. YAY for awesome pieces of wonderful, oh masta. I like writing Oliver's voice… I should do more first-person writing. Even writing a guy's not that bad. Thanks for reading!**

**Moofoot: I know you're reading this and I also know you're busy, but could I get just one teensy Moofy review? Even if it's only a sentence long? I live for them.**

--

**Day Three**

_11:27 AM_

I've always been an early riser, even on the weekends or during summer. But I slept in this morning. Probably because Miley's been driving me insane, especially when I'm supposed to be _sleeping_, not pondering my now-bulldozed love life, and I've gotten tired over the past few days.

All I can think about is how I had my first kiss yesterday under pressure and slight dare from someone who is supposed to be my best friend but apparently just… isn't. I can't believe Lilly. Why would she do that?

But worst of all, I can't believe myself.

I can't believe that I told Lilly that Miley and I were dating out of offhand stupidity. It was supposed to be a joke, but now _I'm_ the joke. I took advantage of what Lilly said and _boom_, our friendship ended. Or at least, I think it did. I haven't actually spoken to Miley yet, and I don't really want to. I'm convinced she hates me.

The three of us never made plans for today, so I suppose I'll just hang out around here by myself. Mom and Anne took Anthony to a birthday party and then going to hang out with some of their other "bestestest pals" as they all call each other; why they need three "ests" I will never know.

I really need to come up with a plan.

I can't just ignore Miley until she leaves, because a) that would be really mean and unlike me, and b) we're all going to her house to watch a movie and hang the night before her PRIVATE JET takes off in the morning.

I can't tell her I love her… why? She probably already knows.

I can't kiss her… why? I already did, and wow, she is an amazing kisser. We didn't, like, French or anything (though it _was_ a long kiss), but it was, I dunno, important-feeling. Like it meant something. But I can't stop myself from wondering if it really did, or if she was just… kidding. And she said herself that I'm a good kisser. Or, at least, not a bad kisser.

Okay, I've come to the conclusion that I can and will tell her I love her, and that I can and will kiss her. For real.

If my life were a sitcom, the audience would be cheering right about… now.

But it's not.

So I guess I have to declare my decision to empty-house-induced silence.

I just threw my head back and screamed, "I'm going to kiss Miley!" at the top of my lungs. It felt pretty good.

Now I have to figure out when.

I could do it when we're all at her house watching a movie. I'm sure Lilly wouldn't mind—I'm actually almost positive that she had ulterior motives in planning our movie night. She told me that she was going to rent "Pirates of the Caribbean," which I know is old and also not all that romantic, but I've read reviews. I don't mind the occasional romantic-action-thriller-piratey movie every once in awhile. Especially not if Miley gets a teeny bit scared and has to hold my hand.

I am scheming myself silly.

I'm so glad Miley gave me this CD for my birthday. She put some really great songs on it. A couple of slower ballady songs, a couple of upbeat jumpy songs, and some that are really good for sticking your pointer and pinky fingers up and moving your head around a lot. I never would have listened to most of these songs had she not given me this CD—take, for example, LeAnn Rimes' "Can't Fight the Moonlight." It's got a really good beat but cheesy words (except the chorus is pretty good), but I've listened to it so much that I know the words. Shameful, yes.

I've got it cranked up really loud in my CD player, and obviously I'm writing in here. I'm boring.

Anyway, so I could kiss her during movie night.

I could also kiss her… when else? I could kiss her before she leaves. Maybe right before she gets on the plane? Her private jet takes off the day after tomorrow at 7:30 AM from Santa Monica Airport, and we get to go with her onto the tarmac and get the grand tour and everything.

Ooh, no, bad idea, because her dad will be there.

But I… I don't know, I don't know, I don't know!

Time to eat some lunch and watch some mindless TV.

_5:16 PM_

Wow, my life is so boring that I have to depend on my cousin for interesting stuff.

Anthony walked home from the party a couple of minutes ago. I didn't realize how long these eleven-year-old parties last. He told me an interesting story, which I recorded in case it turned out to be important. It did.

Apparently some girl was walking in the mall with her mother when she spotted a couple making out in the food court. The boy had shaggy brown hair and the girl had brown curly hair. Yeah, that's right.

"You kissed Miley," Anthony said in awe. "I can't believe you actually did it."

"Lilly sort of… dared me to," I confessed.

"So what, cuz? You kissed the girl of your dreams and conversations-with-yourself! I'm so proud…" he pretended to cry.

"Shut up," I punched his shoulder. "Stop making fun of me."

"Seriously, though, Oliver," he said, "I am happy for you. This is going to be great for you. A real girlfriend who you really like."

"I don't know how you're doing it," I said suddenly, after a couple moments of silence, "but I know you've hacked my IM logs."

"Of course," he said with a shrug. "But I'm never going to tell you how."

"I don't care," I said with a grin. "I kissed Miley, and I'm gonna do it again."

"Good for you, cuz," he said sincerely. "Good for you."

_9:12 PM_

I'm exhausted, and extremely excited about movie night tomorrow. I'm definitely going to kiss her then.

Tomorrow I'll talk to Lilly, find the right outfit, get some cologne… go all the way getting ready for this.

I wonder what Miley's thinking right now.

Is she thinking about me? Is she confused about the kiss just like I am? Does she want to do something about it? What if she wants to kiss me back? That's definitely a good thing.

Is she stressing over what to wear to movie night? Is she cleaning the house, fluffing cushions, maybe buying some new sparkly lip gloss? Does she want this as badly as I do?

For how long has she liked me? I've finally accepted that she does, considering Lilly tried to convince me of it several times in person and on IM. Does she still want to go on tour, or does she not want to leave? What songs is she going to sing? Is she going to call me when she's away? Will she maybe dedicate a song to me?

When she comes back, will she still be Miley, or will Hannah have taken over her life? Nah, Miley'll never change.

When she comes back, will she still love me?


	6. Day Two

**A/N: Sorry it's taken so long, guys, but here is (finally) your second-to-last chapter of SDCD. School's a butt sometimes.**

**OMG, go to the Hannah Montana website on and look at Lilly's character description! You have to read it. Major OMG.**

**All the "she/I asked"s at the end are supposed to be like that, I'm not so stupid that I can't come up with other words to use.**

**To all the people who only ever say "please update" and "great story": thank you and I will.**

**uninspiredmuse: yeah, I love Oliver dearly and that's why I'm writing it from his POV.**

**Sidhe-anomaly: thank you so much! I love all of your stories, especially "Confessions of a Commitment-Phobe," which I swear I would review formally except the servers are freaking and it keeps saying it doesn't exist. But now that I go to your page and look for it it's not there… so I'm really confused!**

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**Day Three  
**

_5:45 PM_

Lilly's here.

Hello, future readers of Oliver's random journal! Oh, this is so cool.

Yeah, that was her.

Anyway, she's helping me get ready for movie night. First, she says I have to find some decent clothes. Apparently, after having gone through my closet several times, she has decided I haven't got any, so she's going to run and get me some—from where, I don't know.

I can't wait, I'm gonna kiss her tonight. Miley, I mean, not Lilly.

Lilly just dashed back in and the first thing I noticed was that her lipstick was kind of… smeared. I asked her why, pulling out my voice recorder from its ever-so-handy place in my pocket. Here's her response.

"Oh, you know, I decided you could borrow some of Jackson's clothes," she said casually, pulling a Kleenex from the box on the coffee table.

"And it smeared your lipstick how?"

_Oh God,_ I thought right as I said that.

"Well, you know, I had to convince him to let me."

"And you… you _kissed_ him."

Lilly blushed. "Well, yeah, kinda."

"Oh my _God_," I said, both horrified and astonished. "Oh my _GOD_! How could you _do_ that? You're, what, three years younger? Two at least?"

"One and a half," she admitted. "But, come on, so what, right? We're going to be sophomores, he's going to be a senior. Besides, _he_ kissed _me_, not the other way around."

"What about _Miley_?" I asked her.

"Ooh… that's not good," she said. "She _never_ has to know about this."

"Agreed," I sighed. "That would be bad. And sorry, but I can't wear her brother's clothes—she'd probably recognize them."

"That's the great news," Lilly said excitedly. "See, Mr. Stewart bought them for him a couple of months ago, but they're too small and they were on sale, so the store wouldn't accept returns. He said you can have 'em!"

"Goody," I said in a less-than-enthusiastic way. "Goody, goody, gumdrops."

I left the recorder running as I dashed into the bathroom to change, grabbing a shirt and pants from a bag.

"Ugh," Lilly said when I came out in a pink shirt with brown jeans. "Real men might wear pink, but they don't wear it with brown, especially not with hair as long as yours."

"What, I might get mistaken for a girl?" I asked, appalled.

Lilly cringed. "Well, yeah."

I threw my hands up in the air. "Okay, what next?"

A green-and-white rugby shirt flew at me across the room and landed on my head. "Try that," Lilly suggested, "with those pants."

I went back into the bathroom, changed, and came out. "I look like that guy on Blue's Clues," I said disdainfully, looking down at the tasteless outfit.

"Hmm," Lilly murmured. "Try this shirt." A dark red oxford shirt hit me in the chest from her seat on the couch and I scowled.

Back to the bathroom, changing again, and I came out.

"Whoo, Smokin' Oken returns!" Lilly said and got up to look at me. "Excellent, the outfit is complete."

"What next?" I asked, smiling slightly, finally getting excited.

"Mm," Lilly pondered, "shoes."

"I have a perfect pair." I ran upstairs to get my red pair of Converses and put them on when I got back.

"Great choice," Lilly grinned.

"So now…"

"We have to do your hair," she replied in a slightly frightening tone.

I blinked. "Huh?"

"We have to do your hair," repeated Lilly. "Take me to the nearest vanity."

"Vanity?" I asked, bewildered.

"You know," she replied, exasperated, "a mirror with drawers and a counter underneath it."

"Oh, that'd be in Anne's room," I replied. "Follow me."

Upstairs, I knocked on the doorpost of my aunt's bedroom door, because the door was open, and I left the recorder going in my pocket.

"Come in, Oliver," she said, sticking her head out the bathroom door. "I was just straightening my hair."

We went into the bathroom, and Anne put her straightener down on the counter. "Oh, hi, Lilly," she said with a smile.

"Hi, Mrs. Ackerman," Lilly replied.

"Oh please, call me Anne, I keep telling you," Anne insisted, and Lilly nodded. "So, Oliver honey, what do you need?"

"Uh, Lilly wanted a… what is it again?"

"Vanity," Lilly supplied, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, that. She wants to mess with my hair."

Anne opened the cabinets under the sink. "Help yourself, Lilly," she grinned. "Use anything you need."

"Thanks, uh, Anne," Lilly said. "Okay, Oliver, take off your shirt. I don't want it wet when you wash your hair."

"But… but…"

"I've seen you shirtless, I'm sure Anne has too."

"Right." I did as I was told and bent my head into the sink obediently as Lilly gave me shampoo.

"Neutrogena," she explained as she squeezed it into my hand and I scrubbed at my head. "It smells somewhat manly, or at least, you won't smell like a spring meadow."

I rinsed my hair and then she squeezed some conditioner into my hand. "Put that in, leave it for two minutes, and rinse with cold water."

I counted to one hundred and twenty and then rinsed with cold water. Lilly put a towel over my head as I stood up and I dried it rather effectively, then put my shirt back on and looked in the mirror. "Now what?"

Anne was standing by the doorpost, chuckling, as Lilly said, "Sit. I'm going to blow-dry your hair."

"That's an insult to masculinity everywhere," I said meekly, but I sat down anyway. Anne walked over holding a brush, and Lilly held the blow-dryer up. Anne brushed, Lilly dried. This went on for at least ten minutes.

"Good Lord, Oliver, you've got a lot of hair," Anne marveled.

Afraid to nod, I just waited patiently as they continued to blow-dry my hair. "Excellent," Lilly finally said and they stepped back. "Mousse?"

"Mousse," Anne replied.

Lilly went to the cabinet and pulled out a white can (and I checked to make sure my recorder was still running—it was). She sprayed some white stuff into her hands and it… it _grew_! Within seconds she had a mound of white fluff in her hands and then she put it in my hair. Twisting it and moving it and making me smell weird, she stepped back and then began to blow-dry it again. Finally, _finally_, she was done.

I looked at myself in the mirror. "Wow," I marveled.

"Wow indeed," Anne agreed. "Good work, Lilly!"

After Lilly took a couple of minutes to do her makeup and her hair, we went back downstairs and Lilly handed me a box. "I got you something," she said with a smile.

I opened it. It was a clear bottle with a black top, with clear liquid inside. I took the top off and looked at her. "What is it?"

"My cousin has a custom perfumes business," she explained. "I hooked you up with this." Taking the bottle from me, she spritzed it on random spots on my shirt.

I sniffed the air. "I smell awesome," I said. "Thanks so much, Lilly." I stepped forward to hug her.

"Let's not waste this on me," she said, stepping back after a brief hug. "Let's go get you your girl! Oh, you'll need these." She threw a box of cinnamon Tic-Tacs at me.

"I hate cinnamon!" I caught them and moaned.

"Miley doesn't," she reminded me, grabbing the _Pirates of the Caribbean_ DVD off the coffee table.

"I love cinnamon!" I exclaimed, popping two Tic-Tacs in my mouth.

I am going to leave my journal and voice recorder here for safety. I'll write again when I return.

_9:17 PM_

I am not going to spoil the end of the night at the beginning of this entry, so future readers will just have to read through the whole thing to find out what happened. And again, I remembered all of this as best as I could.

As is tradition, Lilly and I went to Miley's house, where we ordered pizza (one pepperoni for Lilly and Miley, one-half Hawaiian for me and one-half cheese for whoever wanted it). We sat around on the couch while waiting for the pizza to arrive.

"So, Miley, what time do you leave for Japan?" Lilly asked.

"Seven-thirty," she replied. I looked at her and she seemed kind of sad. She looked beautiful, wearing a dark-blue blouse and a white skirt. I felt very… bright compared to her ensemble. "You guys will be there, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," I said with a smile.

"Santa Monica Airport," she reminded us.

After several minutes of awkward silence, the doorbell rang. "I'll get it," Miley said, standing up and taking a $10 from its spot on the coffee table.

I heard the pizza guy say something and Miley paid him, then brought the two pizzas inside to the kitchen table. "Dig in, guys," she said, and took a piece of pepperoni and a piece of cheese.

I took two pieces of Hawaiian and we all ate in still-awkward silence.

Then I took another piece of Hawaiian and we all stayed quiet.

Then Jackson came down the stairs, Lilly said "Hi," his face paled, and he went back up the stairs.

Miley spoke up. "What was that?"

"Oh," Lilly said trying to smile it off, "nothing."

"That's not a nothing nothing, that's a _something_ nothing. What is it?" Miley asked.

"_Nothing_," Lilly insisted.

"Look, I saw my brother's face pale. He only does that when he… yeah, never seen him do it. What's going on?"

"Oliver?" Lilly asked.

"Lilly?" I replied.

"Would you like to tell her?"

I took a bite of my pizza. "Mmm, no."

"Will _somebody_ please tell me?" Miley begged, exasperated, throwing her hands up in the air like all good drama queens do.

"I kissed her," said a voice from the stairs.

"You _what_?" Miley screeched at her brother.

"I kissed her," he repeated.

"Why?"

Lilly stood up, offended. "You don't think I'm kissable?"

"I am not insulting your kissability," Miley insisted, and I leaned back to take another bite of my pizza. "Merely your newfound relationship with my brother."

Jackson came down from the stair he was standing on and put his arm around Lilly. "It's not newfound, Miles," he said. "I've liked her for a long time."

"Likewise," Lilly said, beaming.

"Let's go to a movie," Jackson suggested. And he and Lilly got in his car and drove away, leaving me, Miley, and a pizza and a half.

"Well that was interesting," I said, eating the last of my piece. "Soooo, what now?"

Miley shrugged. "I dunno. Do you want to watch the movie?" She gestured to the DVD case lying on the coffee table.

"Not really, I've seen it already," I said truthfully.

"So have I," Miley replied with a smile. "Lilly has really wanted to see it but obviously not enough to stay…"

"Does this bother you?" I asked, leaning across the table to look at her closely.

"What, you being within five inches of my face?" she asked, leaning in a similar way.

I sat back and laughed. "No, the whole Jackson-Lilly thing."

She shrugged and leaned back in her chair with a _thump_. "Nnh, I don't know. I mean, it's kind of to be expected—she flirted with him almost every time we went to Rico's and every time she came here. I have a confession, though."

"What?" I asked, my eyebrows going up.

"I'm not going to tell you," she said with a smirk, shrugging.

"Is that the confession, or is that you not telling me the confession?"

"I'm not going to tell you," she repeated.

I stood up, frustrated, but in a good way. "Do I have to tickle you for it?"

"No!" she screamed, getting out of her chair and running to the French doors in the back of the house. "_No tickling_!"

"Too late!" I cried, dashing after her as she opened the doors and hastily slamming them shut in a sure-to-be-futile attempt to prevent breakage-and-enterage. She was running down onto the sand and sticking her thumbs in her ears, waving her fingers at me.

"You've got to catch me first!" she yelled as I followed her down the stairs and took a running start for her. I caught her stomach and began to wiggle my fingers, tickling her like I had so many times.

She doubled over, crossing her arms over her stomach and dangling her head. "Nooo!" she protested, but I got her under the armpits. "I give! I give!"

I was laughing so hard that I collapsed onto the sand, and she stood over me. "Way more fun than rewatching a movie," she said with a smile as she offered me a hand up. I took it and we both stood for a second watching the moon rise, but of course we were the most unromantic pair of friends at the time, so we went back to our antics.

Screaming in glee, Miley took off running into the surf, as she had ditched her flip-flops earlier. "Don't want to ruin your precious Converses, do ya?"

So that's what that was—the night had turned into a giant game of chase. Not that I minded, of course. Taking her comment as a challenge, I leapt into a breakneck run and splashed through the shallowest parts of the Pacific, following the billowing white skirt before me. Great. I'm a skirt-chaser.

"I'm going to get you good," I yelped down the beach at her, adding my last burst of energy to do something I've wanted to do forever. Catching up to her finally, I came in from behind and put a hand under her neck and a hand under her knees, scooping her up.

A weak fear rang in her eyes as she looked at me, but she hid it well and it disappeared within nanoseconds. "What was that for?"

"I'm not going to tell you," I grinned, shifting her weight off my forearms and up closer to my shoulders.

"I'm mooning the rest of the beach," she moaned, in a slightly joking manner. "Put me down!"

I lowered her to her feet. "So, what do you want to do now?"

"Can we talk?" she asked.

"About what?" I asked.

"What do you want to talk about?" she asked.

"What if I don't want to talk at all?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Why don't you try to guess?" I asked.

"What if I don't want to?" she asked.

"What if I won't tell you?" I asked.

"What if I really want to know?" she asked.

"How about I just show you," I said.

Suddenly, like I had been planning to do for days but never thought it would actually happen, I leaned in and kissed her. Nothing big, I just kissed her softly on the lips for a few seconds and then stood upright again.

Her eyes were wide as I put my hands on her shoulders. "Miley Stewart, every day I look forward to seeing you, talking to you, being your friend. But guess what, Miley? I'm sick of being your friend."

"Oliver, wha—"

"Shh," I said. "Hear me out. Being your friend sucks. Do you know why? You don't. You couldn't _possibly_. Being your friend means that I get to see you and talk to you, but I don't get to hold you or kiss you or be anything more than a friend. And I hate that. So I am ending our friendship right now. From now on, it's not Oliver Oken and Miley Stewart, greatest of friends. I'm changing everything."

"Are you mad?" she asked quietly.

"I am _pissed_," I answered. "I am pissed because that is what boyfriends do, and your boyfriend I am not." Taking a breath, I looked her in the eyes. "Miley, please, just do me a giant favor."

"What is that?"

"Kiss me, for crying out loud."

She stepped towards me, put her hands on my face, and looked at me carefully. "I don't understand this."

"It's perplexing," I agreed. "Incomprehensible at best."

"But that's why it's so much fun," she said, pulling my face to hers. We touched nose to nose for a second and then she kissed me. Lightly, the first time. We separated briefly and she looked at me again.

"Unfathomable."

I took the initiative and put my hands on her waist, closing the space between us and kissing her again. There was no trace of friendship in that kiss—it was full of romance and pain and love and heartache and desire and endings and beginnings and I could go through the Oxford English Dictionary and never find a suitable word to describe it.

"So I guess we're dating now, huh?" she asked as we pulled apart, making a puppy face.

"I'll say," I said, taking her hand and walking with her slowly back towards the house.

I thought of something suddenly. "Won't your dad care that we ran out of the house?"

"Nah, Jackson's supposed to be our babysitter…" her words slowed as she came to a realization. "Dad's at a meeting with my record execs and he'll be back in… three minutes!" We set off running, Miley grabbing her shoes at the foot of the stairs, and quickly situated ourselves on the couch.

She grabbed the remote and flicked on the TV as I rubbed the gloss off my mouth. At that second, Mr. Stewart walked in. "Have fun, kids?"

"Yeah," I looked at Miley, my eyes smiling.

"Where're Lilly and Jackson?"

"Lilly threw up in the toilet and we sent her home," I supplied hastily.

"And Jackson went off on a date with some girl," Miley said. I was immediately jealous of her, having just lied to my girlfriend's dad while she told the truth.

"I am going to shoot that boy, bring him back from the dead, and drown him," Mr. Stewart said as he went up the stairs.

"Phew," Miley and I both said in relief.

Nothing else exciting happened, except that when I left to walk home, she kissed my cheek.

And that's that. Tomorrow she leaves.


	7. Day One

**A/N: I love you all and yes, this is the end of this story, finally. No sequel, just this, a short little wrap-up chapter. Next in production is an _Ugly Betty_ fic. Betty/Daniel, of course.**

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**Day One**

_7:25 AM_

It's hot out here.

I mean, it's Santa Monica. It's never hot here.

But it's at least like ninety degrees.

So here I am standing on the tarmac, and Miley's plane is ready for takeoff.

Here is the end of my journal. So my world didn't explode after all, and Miley and I, as of right now, are going to live happily ever after, I hope.

Thank you, world.

_7:57 AM_

Oliver gave me this journal to read. I just finished it.

I cannot believe the way he feels about me. It's amazing. Intense. I never expected something like this from him.

Right now, I am sitting in the soft leather seat of the record label's jet, en route to Japan. I have this notebook in my lap and a blue pen in my hand.

My handwriting and Oliver's are so different. His is blocky print, quite manly if I do say so myself, and mine is more of a loopy cursive. We are different as well.

Maybe that's why we go so well together.

He gave me this journal as his way of professing his feelings, and he has done a very good job. He also told me to write about my trip in here, so I will do that, starting with takeoff.

He was at the airport before I was, waiting for me and Daddy to get him past the people in the office and let him onto the tarmac.

As I walked up to him, he slipped an arm around my waist and kissed the top of my head. We walked out to the plane in silence; not an awkward silence, but a necessary silence because neither of us had anything to say that hadn't already been said.

We got to the plane, and Lilly dashed through the doors of the building just in time to take a quick tour of the jet. Both she and Oliver enjoyed it thoroughly, while Dad was outside talking to the pilot.

At some point, Lilly went back outside for an unspecified reason, leaving me and Oliver alone in the cabin. We sat down in the oversized leather chairs and he took my hand into his.

"I'm going to miss you a lot."

I nodded. "Ditto."

Turning towards me, he brushed his nose against mine before going in for the kiss. The subtlety was completely lost on me, because my hands were quickly on his chest and his on my waist.

"Break it up, kids," Lilly said, walking back into the plane. Just in time, too, because Dad came in not five seconds later.

We stood up, and I hugged Lilly. "I love ya, soul sister," I said. "This hug had better last you the whole summer." Letting go, I gestured to my laptop bag. "I'll have access to email and IM. My cell phone is unlocked as well, so I can use it in any country."

"Have fun, Miley," Lilly said with a smile and backed away.

Oliver stepped up to me and then looked cautiously at my father, who made a face that could be interpreted as resentful permission. With a grin, he wrapped me in a hug. "I love you, Miles."

"Love you too, Oliver."

We kissed briefly and then he and Lilly left, as their parents were waiting in cars in the front.

I looked up at Dad.

"Ready?"

He nodded. "Yup."

And so here I go, around the world, one best friend and one boyfriend staying here. I love them both and I cannot wait to see them when I return.


End file.
